Waiting
by eiahmon
Summary: Perched on the spires of Castlevania, Isaac waits for Hector to arrive. While he waits, he thinks on what has come before.


**Disclaimer: Don't own. Would be nice though. **

**A/N: This was written before Curse of Darkness was released, so bear with me here. **

Issac perched motionless on the tallest spire of Castlevania, the castle belonging to his Lord and Master, Dracula, looking for all appearances to be a statue. His eyes, the same silver gray as the overcast sky above him, scanned the rest of the castle, and he allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up in the barest hint of a smile. Utilizing the powerful black magic that had been unleashed by Lord Dracula's defeat at the hands of Trevor Belmont three years ago, it had been painfully simple for him to raise the castle from the rubble himself. And he was quite impressed with his handiwork, he had to admit. Already, his lord's lesser minions were prowling the castle and it's grounds, waiting for some hapless human to stumble into them. Already the inhabitants of the nearby villages were in a panic, and Issac knew with a certainty that Trevor Belmont was probably on his way.

But it was not him that Issac was waiting for. Oh no. he was not waiting for some foolish human to wander through the gates, waving it's sword in a false show of bravery. No, he was waiting for someone much more powerful, the one person who was missing from the otherwise lovely scene around him.

Hector.

Issac's mockery of a smile disappeared as the thought of his former fellow Devil Forge Master entered his mind. Three years ago, mere days before Trevor Belmont had arrived at the castle, ready to challenge his family's immortal enemy, Hector had left Castlevania. No explanation, no warning, he had just left. With him gone, Issac had been left as the last line of defense protecting Lord Dracula's throne room. Despite fighting his best and summoning hoards of his devilish minions to heckle the Belmont, he had been overwhelmed by the man's power and the agonizing sting of the Vampire Killer whip. He had fallen and had lain prone on the floor, too weak to help his master, as the Belmont had then walked past him without a backward glance and gone through the doors leading to the stairs to the throne room. Issac remembered how his blood had boiled with rage at the Belmont for having the audacity to come into the castle, at himself for failing to protect his lord, and at Hector for not being there to help.

Several minutes later, the Belmont had come running back through the doors and had run for the castle entrance as the entire structure had begun to shake and crumble. Using the last of his strength, Issac had summoned on of his few surviving devils to shield him as the floor, walls, and ceiling collapsed, sending him plummeting five stories to the ground below.

He had been knocked unconscious by the fall, and he had no idea how long he was out for, though to judge by his achingly dry throat and growling stomach, he judged that it had to have been at least a day or two. When he did regain consciousness, he found himself in a small alcove formed by fallen stone, under the crushed, lifeless corpse of his familiar.

Badly battered by the fight with the Belmont and the fall, it had taken him days to dig himself out. As he dug, he had stewed in his anger, raging at all of the things that had gone wrong. And his anger focused on one person, Hector, whom could have prevented all of this from happening if he had not left. But after a few more days of digging and seemingly getting nowhere, his anger had given way to hopelessness and despair as he had begun to realize that he wouldn't be able to get out, that he was too weak and too badly injured. But, miraculously, he had soon found a unbroken bottle of healing potion, and it had healed the worst of his injuries and had given him the needed strength to get himself out. Once free of the rubble, he had been surprised to discover that he had fallen seven stories, not five, as the entire structure had collapsed into the sublevels below. He had then searched for his master's body, and, once he had found him, he had placed him in his coffin in his hidden crypt, and it was then that the rage had gripped him again.

If Hector had not left, like some sniveling coward, then he and Issac would have been able to join up and double team the Belmont, thus preventing the whip wielding human from ever reaching the throne room. As Issac carefully arranged his master's body in the coffin, he had felt his anger at his back stabbing former friend grow, until once again, he could feel it boiling through his veins. When he had closed the coffin lid over the still form of his surrogate father, it had reached the flash point.

He had gone on a rampage, going through every town and village in the area, slaughtering every man, woman, and child that crossed his path, looking for Hector. But the other Devil Forge Master had hidden himself well, and none of those that Issac ruthlessly tortured for information had seen him or heard of him.

Issac had been forced to abandon his search when Trevor Belmont, who had only just returned with his family to the area after a quarter century of exile, took note of his activities. Not wiling to face the Belmont again, knowing full well that he might not survive a second encounter, he had dropped the search for the time being and retreated to a much smaller castle hidden deep in the mountains, where he and Hector and had been raised, to plan. Sooner of later, Hector would reappear, and when he did, Issac would be waiting.

During the ensuing three years, Issac had practiced his Devil Forgery and his weapon skills and schemed about how to make Hector pay for his betrayal. After thinking on it for a bit, he had decided that luring Hector back to the side of evil would be far more rewarding. Not only would he benefit from having his comrade's devil forging skills again, but Lord Dracula himself would be able to decide on his punishment when he next awoke. Grinning with malicious glee, he had set to plotting.

When he was not plotting on how to make Hector fall from the light, Issac would often wander into the burnt remains of a village that sat a couple of miles from the castle. From what little he had been told of it as a child, the village had been destroyed by Lord Dracula in murderous vengeance after the villagers had murdered his wife, and none of them had escaped with their lives.

Walking through the charred ruins, which included a large wooden stake in what had once been the village green where nothing would grow, made Issac think of another burning village, one that had burned over a century before.

Issac and Hector had been born in the same village a few years apart; they no longer remember who was the older one. When they had still been small, the plague had swept through, killing nearly everyone. The few adults that remained had put the houses of the sick to the torch - including Issac's house, where he sat numb with shock and grief by the bodies of his parents and older sister. Ill himself, he had been too weak and scared to try and escape the house as the roof burned, dropping burning embers around him, and he had cried as the flames had closed in.

He had been shocked back into silence when cool, strong hands lifted him right off the burning floor and held him close to someone's chest as he was carried safely through the flames. He was carried out of the burning house and to a waiting carriage, where another little boy - Hector - lay wrapped up in a heavy cape, fast asleep on the bench. Once inside the carriage, which immediately began to roll away from the burning village, the mysterious person had wrapped Issac in a heavy velvet coat and had given him something hot and spicy to drink, which had broke the plague's grip on him within a few hours. He later learned that it was blood that he had been given.

Issac and Hector's savior had turned out to be Lord Dracula, who had taken them to his small castle, where he had spent the previous few centuries hiding, waiting for the Belmont line to die out. The two boys had spent a happy childhood there, doted on by nurses and servants and loved by their new father, though they were forbidden to call him that. Only Dracula's half human, half vampire son, Alucard, who hadn't been seen in over a decade, could use that word.

The two had been in their teens when they had discovered books on devil forgery in the library, and they had eagerly taken up the craft with their surrogate father's blessing. Use of the unique craft, as well as having several draughts of Dracula's blood to drink over the years, had resulted in some interesting side effects, leaving them somewhere between vampire and human, while being strictly neither. They could still go out in sunlight, though they were a bit sensitive to it, and they didn't need to drink, but their senses of sight, hearing, and smell had become considerably sharper, though they were still nowhere as sharp as a vampire's. Their endurance and strength had also greatly increased , but the biggest surprise came when they realized that they were no longer aging. Lord Dracula had just smiled knowingly when they had told him, and they had no idea if he had had something to do with it or if it had been just circumstance. But he had taught them how to make the most of their new abilities and use them to their advantage in a fight. And to their surprise, he warned them to stay away from the Belmont family. He had never explained why he feared that family, but the two boys knew that either he had betrayed them or they had betrayed him, one of the two. Dracula would never confirm or deny any theory that they put to him on the subject, and after a few years, they stopped asking, though they never stopped wondering.

Thinking on all that Lord Dracula had done for them, Issac could not, would not, understand Hector's reasons for betraying them and going to the humans. But, it was a small matter, he would pay. Comforted by that thought, Issac had waited for the next three years, waiting for his opportunity to come.

And it did come, in the form of a blond haired, blue eyed human woman.

Hector's wife.

Gleeful that all of his planning could finally come to frutation, Issac had gone to the small village where the happy couple was living. Implicating the woman in crimes of witchcraft had been blissfully easy. He then had dropped a few clues and let himself be seen by Hector once or twice, then he had gone back to Castlevania. He raised the castle from the ruins, knowing that Hector would put the clues together and realized who was responsible for his wife's fate. No doubt thirsting for revenge, how would track Issac back to Castlevania, where he would fall neatly into the trap that was waiting for him.

Perched atop the spire, watching the road that led to the castle, Issac felt his lips twitch in a smile again, which widened into a smirk when he glimpsed a white haired figure running up the road towards the castle gates.

The prodigal son returns.

The smirk still in place, Issac descended from his lofty perch, took up his heavy metal staff, summoned one of his familiars to him, and walked leisurely towards the castle entrance. Once there, he stood in the middle of the area, waiting. Waiting for Hector.


End file.
